


in the silence i'm with you

by captainsarmband



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Borussia Dortmund, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 13:32:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10022735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainsarmband/pseuds/captainsarmband
Summary: Julian bribes the security guard with chocolates whenever he misses home and comes to clear his head in the empty stadium after hours. This time he isn't the only soul seeking comfort on the pitch and with Chris by his side, his heart doesn't feel so heavy.





	

 

 

It's quiet, like it always is when the throngs of reporters have decided that there's no story left to tell, when the cameras stop to follow their every move, when the chanting yellow wall has long dissolved into thousands of individuals, leaving the stadium with smiles on their faces.

It's quiet, like it always is when Julian steps onto the soft grass late in the evening, it's just not as dark as he expected. A spotlight illuminates the box in front of the South stand and a lone figure throws a long shadow onto the pitch.

Julian recognizes him even before he sees his face, recognizes the calculated movement of his legs as he skips the ball from one foot to the other, the angle of his arms stretched out for balance as he turns in a swift move to bury the ball in the net. He throws his arms up in the air as if celebrating his goal with the ecstatic crowd, before he moves to pick the ball up from the ground in an unceremonial act.

“Torschütze unser Spieler mit der Nummer 22!” Julian calls out, mimicking their stadium announcer and his voice echoes from the empty ranks in a hollow whisper. He walks across the pitch toward the box where the other boy awaits him with the ball tucked under one arm.

“Since when have you been watching?” Christian asks and tips his chin up, challenging Julian to make fun of him.

“I haven’t seen you practise any penalties, so I must have missed something,” Julian says, going for light-hearted banter, but feeling his heart fall in sync with Christian’s face.

“I really fucked that one up, huh?” Chris asks and they are both lured back to that night against Hertha and the second Jarstein leapt to the ground and saved Christian’s penalty almost effortless. They won, in the end all was well, but that second of disappointment and regret is etched onto Chris’s face now and Julian wants to slap himself.

“Hey,” he says softly, “we all fuck up, it’s part of the game. And when you think about it, it’s- What are you doing?” He frowns as Chris turns his back on him and shields his eyes to look up the South ranks.

“Oh, just checking whether they left the ball from your last goal attempt up there,” Chris says and Julian could hear the smug grin on his face all the way to the other end of the stadium.

“Fair enough,” Julian steps forward to stand beside Chris and playfully shoves his shoulder. “How did you get in here?”

“Peter. He lets me in sometimes in exchange for-”

“Cherry liqueur chocolates,” Julian finishes for him and surprise crosses Christian’s face. “He’s so easily corrupted.” He pauses before he asks, “Why?”

“I don’t know, man, I think any combination of chocolate and alcohol is disgusting, but-”

“No,” Julian can’t help but chuckle. “Why do you come here?”

“Extra-training never hurt anyone, I guess.” Chris shrugs but doesn’t meet his eye.

Julian feels that maybe he should say something. Something deep and encouraging. He remembers when he was captain in Munich and it was his job to take care of the young players. Here, he is just another one of the kids and it feels strangely liberating. “So how about you try to score against, you know, an actual opponent?”

“Oh, have you brought someone competent?” Chris asks and the glint is back in his eyes.

“Are you just gonna talk, hot shot?” Julian grabs the ball from Chris, lets it drop and balances it on his foot. “Or are you actually up for a challenge?”

And maybe Chris is quicker than he remembered or maybe he is momentarily distracted by the dimples Christian’s smile leaves on his cheeks, but suddenly the ball is taken from his foot and it takes him a second to reassemble himself and run after Chris.

Julian has never particularly envied opposing defenders having to keep up with their hurricane of an attack. But now, one-on-one in close proximity, the way the ball is glued to Christian’s feet seems a goddamn injustice. Julian holds his own well enough, but his shirt soon clings to his chest and his sweat pants are muddy from the last sliding tackle that had Chris jumping over his leg and the ball tumbling over the sidelines (they spend a heated round of rock, paper, scissors determining who has to get the ball back. Julian never loses at rock, paper, scissors).

With satisfaction Julian notices the drop of sweat running down Christian’s temple and the look of determined focus in his eyes. The way his mouth is slightly opened and his tongue flicks over his bottom lip. Suddenly Chris feints left and makes Julian take that automatic side-step that allows Christian to speed past him on his right. Julian scrambles to make up for his mistake, runs past Chris as he halts to take the shot, and slides down on the ground. He feels the ball at his toes just as it is about to cross the line. He tumbles forward into the net - just beside the ball. He curses and brushes the dirt and grass off of his knee, while Christian’s laughter fills the silence.

“Good effort,” Chris finally says, still chuckling softly, and holds out his hand. Julian tugs on it, forcefully enough to pull Christian forward and make him ungracefully topple into the net and down next to him.

He expects at least pretend complaints, but Christian’s shoulders just heave with laughter and tears glisten in the corners of his eyes. Julian ducks his head to hide his smile before he looks up at the night sky. Christian’s laughter turns into an occasional giggle and then they just sit there in silence and Julian becomes strangely aware of where their shoulders are touching.

“I love the solitude here at night,” Chris says suddenly. “When no one is looking and judging and you can just play for the sake of it.”

Julian glances at Chris but he is staring at the sky and so he does, too. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Oh no,” Chris says and reassuringly lays a hand on Julian’s forearm, “that was nice.”

“Do you come here often?”

There is a pause before Chris replies. “Are you flirting with me, Julian Weigl?”

He looks down at Christian and Christian looks back and Christian’s hand is still on his arm and he is at a loss.

Until Chris snorts and Julian shoves his shoulder so that he drops to his side.

“Incredible,” Julian mutters while Chris gets ahold of himself and sits up straight again.

“I come here when I’m restless,” Chris says and the serious tone in his voice makes Julian look at him.

“Do you get homesick?”

Chris frowns, visibly pondering the question. “I don’t know. This feels a lot like home,” he finally says, gesturing to the stadium, but Julian can tell that he means more than that. “I miss my mum, of course. And just naturally knowing the streets and the people and knowing your way by heart.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Julian says before he thinks better of it. “Okay, obviously I don’t. I mean, you’re from a whole other continent and-”

“I don’t think that matters,” Chris interrupts softly, “When you miss home, you miss home, whether that’s four thousand miles away or four hundred.”

Julian smiles and nods. “How do you know it’s four hundred miles for me?”

“They do teach Geography in school, you know.”

“That’s an oddly specific distance to teach.”

“It’s called the internet, Jule, look it up.”

“Oh, and what should I type in?”

“Are you trying to make me admit I googled you?”

“No.”

“Good. Because I did. It’s not a big deal.”

“Nope.”

“And just so you know, it’s 666 kilometres between Dortmund and Bad Aibling, that can’t be a good sign. So you better switch to miles, your system is ridiculous anyway. And your town literally has _bad_ in it, seriously, what is up with that?”

Julian can’t help but smile at the blush creeping up on Christian’s cheeks.

“How would you feel about a cup of tea?” He asks and stops Chris’s ramble.

“Now?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure.”

Julian’s legs have become stiff from the semi-comfortable position on the ground and disentangling themselves from the net and getting up is a harder task than expected. Christian stumbles against him and they laugh and suddenly Julian’s back meets the goalpost and Chris looks up at him with a smile on his lips.

And for some reason Julian just has to lean down. He hears Chris inhale, feels tentative fingers touch his side and the tips of their noses bump.

“Boys!” The voice carries over the entire pitch and Julian’s head shoots up. “I’m locking up in ten, you better be out before then!”

“Gotcha, Peter!” Julian calls back and hears his heart thump wildly in his ears. “Shit,” he mutters and looks at Chris and they crack up at the same time.

Chris leans his forehead against Julian’s chest to stifle his laughter in his shirt and the way Julian can feel his breath and his happiness through the cloth leaves a fuzzy feeling in his stomach.

“We better go,” Chris finally says, moves back and picks up the ball from the ground.

“Yeah, we better.”

They make their way back across the green, enjoying the vastness of an empty pitch side by side, marveling together at the quiet of the place that has so many stories to tell and yet more to host in the future.

The spotlight just below the South stand switches off, the only source of light is the soft moonlight seeping through the clouds above.

They walk across the field in silence. And Christian takes his hand.

 

 


End file.
